Like A Memory
by could-have-beens
Summary: In which Anna spends her Christmas Eve panicking in the emergency room, worrying about going to jail, and embarrassing herself in front of the man she may or may not have run over with her car. Hans/Anna.


Comes to the Hansanna/Frozen fandom six years too late with Starbucks.

Hello! Welcome to my first Frozen fic and my first completed story in ages. This was originally written for Day 6 of the Hansanna for the Holidays event on tumblr. Complete for now, but I may add more to the 'verse in the future. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The night had started out innocently enough. All Anna had wanted was to get some glögg before Elsa came over for dinner. It was Christmas tradition, after all. One of the few she and Elsa remembered from their childhood, in the years before their parents died and her sister shut the world away. And now that she and Elsa were reconnecting, now that Elsa was learning how to let people in again, Anna wanted their Christmas Eve to be fun and memorable and _special._ Just one night of bonding and reminiscing with the only family she had left. Was that really so much to ask for?

_Go get some glögg, Anna_, she thought to herself. _It won't take long, Anna, just drop by the grocery store and, boom, you're back in a jiffy! Ugh._

But Anna had underestimated the number of last-minute shoppers, and what was supposed to be a quick, twenty-minute trip turned into a frustrating two-hour crawl down the checkout queue and, later, through the godforsaken traffic.

And then this, of all things, just had to happen — the final nail in her proverbial coffin.

"You're going to jail."

"Shut up."

"Isn't that what happens when you nearly kill a dude?"

"You're exaggerating."

"Anna, you ran him over."

"I did not!" she cried indignantly. "I just . . . grazed him, that's all."

"Yeah, well, graze or not, poor guy whacked his head on the pavement and was knocked unconscious."

"It's not my fault, okay? _He_ was jaywalking. I had the right of way! The stoplight said so!"

"Still," Kristoff said, shrugging.

Anna glared. Not that he noticed. The hospital's waiting room was equipped with a vending machine, and Kristoff was busy steadily working his way through each of the snacks. The crunching of the bags made Anna's head pound and her teeth grind.

Kristoff wasn't that bad, really, all things considered. He and Elsa had been friends since their freshman year, and it was easy to see why her ever paranoid sister, always so determined to keep her safe and sheltered, had insisted they share an apartment when Anna left home for university. He was nice. Responsible. An all-around good roommate who did her dishes with minimal complaining when she forgot to. But sometimes he was a bit too pessimistic — _realistic,_ he would say — and it grated on her nerves. Like right now.

"How are you so calm?" Anna demanded.

"I wasn't the one driving."

"If I'm going to get charged, I'm pointing you as accessory to — to — to _whatever_ it is I'm gonna be charged with — which won't happen because I didn't do anything wrong! If anything, _he_ should be getting fined because he wasn't watching where he was going —"

"Neither were you."

_"You_ were distracting me."

"Yeah, because there was a guy crossing the street. Which I told you."

"You didn't tell me — you screamed."

"Nuance," he said, shrugging again. Then there was a bag of chocolates being shook under nose. "Here. It's no marzipan, but it's better than nothing."

Anna was touched, in spite of everything. Maybe being roommates with him for the rest wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe she might just survive living with Kristoff Bjorgman until the end of the school year.

Unless she went to jail.

Oh _god._

"I don't think I can eat right now."

"Look, I'm sure it's going to be fine. Just . . . calm down, okay?"

She tried to breathe. In, out. In, out. It was easier said than done, more so when she felt her phone vibrating in her bag and heard the familiar ringtone. As she looked at the screen, Anna could have sworn her heart plummeted to her stomach.

"Please tell me you didn't call my sister," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

There was a long, agonizing pause. "Um."

Anna put her head in her hands and groaned. _Elsa's never gonna let me borrow her car again, is she?_

That is, if her sister didn't lock her in the house first. Anna could imagine it, and at this point, she wouldn't even blame Elsa for closing the gates and throwing away the key.

* * *

An hour, a panicked phone call, and several bags of chips from the vending machine later, they finally let Anna in to see the guy she had lightly grazed. She had a whole speech planned — a long, winding, heartfelt monologue where she apologized to the guy and begged him to not press charges because it wasn't like she _meant_ to hit him, okay, she really was just following the stoplights and the signs and being a good, safe, harmless driver and, besides, it wasn't like he broke any bones, right? All he got was a concussion, and he was obviously fine now, wasn't he? So it wasn't like it was that big of a deal, right? Right?

Except the words died in her throat the moment she saw him. When Anna had hit him, it had been too dark out in the street to get a good look at his face, and she had been too busy panicking and freaking out to register what he looked like when Kristoff had helped bring him to the hospital.

But now, under the fluorescent lights, it wasn't hard to see his face at all. The auburn hair, the green eyes, the high cheekbones, even the light dusting of freckles —

_— they're dancing, gliding, flying across the ballroom and she feels the swish of her ballgown as he twirls her and his smile makes her cheeks flush with a strange, pleasant warmth — they're climbing up rooftops in all their finery, staring up at the star-strewn sky and there's goosebumps all over her arms as the cool night air passes over her — he's down on his knee and the rush of water is so loud that she almost doesn't hear him, but she sees his eyes, beautiful and breathtaking and guileless — gloved hands in her own, on her waist, brushing her cheek — Oh, Anna, if only there was someone out there who —_

The room stretched out at the corners, then shrank back in again before finally blurring all over — and suddenly Anna was back to white linoleum floors and pale blue walls and too bright lights.

The man had cleared his throat, she realized, pulling her back forcibly into the moment. Anna could hear her heart drumming in her ears, faster and faster the more she stared at him, loud and heavy in the dead quiet silence.

"Um, hi," she said at last, and just like that it was as if a dam had broken inside her, and a stream of words came flooding out all at once before she could reign them in. "I didn't mean to run you over — I mean graze! I grazed you! And I didn't mean to do that, honestly, but — well . . . look the sign obviously said — not that I'm blaming you for getting hit by my car! It's just — well, I — er, are you okay?"

He — _I'm so sorry, are you hurt_ — was looking at her, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he struggled to parse out all the word vomit she had spewed at him. It occurred to her then, as her eyes searched his face, waiting for some sort of response to her rambling, that there was no spark of recognition in his eyes, no flicker or hint of anything that could have meant he remembered her —

But why would he? Anna had never met him before tonight — why on earth did she think he would recognize her? That she should recognize him?

And yet. . . .

She couldn't help but feel that she had done this all before. The longer she stood there, watching him watching her, the more she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from him, afraid he would disappear at any moment.

_Wrong,_ something inside her whispered. _Wrong wrong wrong but —_

_Familiar._

But how — why would he — why did she —

"I think I should be the one asking you that," the man said quietly. Hesitantly.

"What?"

"You're crying."

Mortified, Anna raised her hand to her cheek — tears, she realized, because she was crying, why was she crying —

"Oh," she said, forcing out a laugh as she quickly wiped her cheeks. "Sorry. Um . . . it's been a long day, you know?"

"Are you sure?" he asked, eyes soft with concern.

_He's sitting astride his brown horse, looking at her worriedly as she blushed and stammered and tried to stand up with as much grace as she could muster —_

"Oh yeah," Anna started, a little too loudly, and tried to look away. _Good grief someone shut me up_, she thought, inwardly cringing. "Totally. I'm fine. Super fine. So, um, are you? Okay, I mean?"

"Super," he replied with a small half smile. "I'm just sorry I kept you waiting."

"No, no — it's fine — er, not fine, obviously. Because you're in a hospital bed and all. Which is on me — sorry about that."

"It was my own fault anyway. I should have watched where I was going."

"And I should have been paying more attention to the road so . . . I'm sorry for hitting you with my car. And for every moment after."

_I'd like to formally apologize for hitting the princess of Arendelle with my horse . . . and for every moment after._

He gave a slight shrug. "Don't be. If anything, I actually want to thank you. You single-handedly kept me away from my brothers for the evening. Believe me, I owe you my life."

"I'm pretty sure there are other ways to get away from family reunions. Ones that don't involve spending Christmas Eve in the emergency room."

"Well, you're here too," he said. "So I'd like to apologize anyway, for keeping you and your boyfriend from whatever plans you had for the evening."

"Boyfriend? You mean —" Anna broke off, snickering at the thought. She hadn't even realized he had seen Kristoff. "He's not — that is, I'm not really seeing anyone right now —"

Again, Anna cringed. How many times was she going to do this in one night? _Ugh, too much information there. Way to go, Anna. If he doesn't already think you're an idiot, then he definitely does now._

"Really?" the man said, tilting his head. "So I take it no one's going to object if I wanted to, say, buy you a drink?"

Anna's mind went blank.

"Wait, what?" she sputtered. Surely she hadn't heard that right. . . .

"Either that, or I press charges," he said, still grinning — which was strange, because it felt like he was asking her so much more.

"What?" she repeated. He still hadn't looked away. "You're serious."

"Deadly," he said, but his laugh didn't reach his eyes. He looked nervous all of a sudden, and it made her aware of the heavy pounding in her chest.

"But you — you're asking me out on a date? Right now? On Christmas?"

"It doesn't have to be right now — I'm sure you have plans . . . but maybe after? Tomorrow? Whenever you're free."

"This is crazy. You — you don't even know me and I don't even know your name —"

"Hans," he said, and for a moment Anna saw someone else — the same man but different, offering his hand, pulling her to her feet, dropping to his knees and bowing —

"And isn't that the point of dates?" he went on. "To get to know each other?"

"Well, I guess but. . . ."

She still didn't understand what this was, what it meant. But he was looking at her, waiting, still with that same nervous — _hopeful longing guarded_ — look.

It wasn't like that day by the dark fireplace, when she was crawling on a cold, hard floor, shards of ice piercing her skin from the inside. It wasn't even like that night on the balcony, on the rooftop, by the waterfall, when he had promised no more closed doors, no more pain of the past, _I would never shut you out, can I say something crazy, will you marry me —_

This was different. Familiar, yes, but different too. Somehow there was a distinction, in ways she hadn't worked out yet. And maybe it didn't matter — maybe for now just knowing and being and living — because he was here and she was here and maybe —

"Yes," she said at last, trying to ignore the reservation, the flickering film of — of _memories_ she knew but didn't understand — telling her to turn tail and run. "I think I'd like that."

Something dull in his eyes sparked to life. "Think?"

"I'm still trying to figure it out," Anna said, smiling, and maybe this was enough.


End file.
